


"For Fuck's Sake!"

by Betty06



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, And a bunch of others - Freeform, Angst, But only a little, Canon Divergence - War of The Five Kings, Crack Treated Seriously, F/F, F/M, Kinda, Magic, POV Jeyne Poole, POV Theon Greyjoy, Robb Stark is King in the North, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Swearing, Time Travel, mostly - Freeform, no happy ending, yay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:14:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29631693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Betty06/pseuds/Betty06
Summary: The Others have reached King's Landing. In small row boats the last of humanity go out to face their death. As it always should have gone. As it was always going to be. But one of the Old Gods doesn't like the ending and sends one of the boats back in time. Just that the people on this boat aren't the Starks or Dany or anyone useful.So, the most unlikely heroes have to somehow navigate the mess that is the war of the five kings, that they immediately failed to prevent, and try desperately to get their friends to not die.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Irri/Pypar, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Roslin Frey/Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy/Jeyne Poole, Yes really - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Dark wings, dark words... literally

**Author's Note:**

> So I've seen a lot of Time Travel AUs where the Starks go back in time, tell Ned, and then everyone lives and it's super awesome. So instead of writing that, I'm sending my homegirl Jeyne Poole back in time and fucking with shit.  
> Enjoy the trashfire that is her life.

The raven they called him, the old bird, the dark-winged one. He wasn’t a raven. He wasn’t a he. He wasn’t anything. He was all and nothing, a gust of wind, a howl in the night, a leaf that falls into a sea of thousands. Once they had fed him with sacrifices of blood on white stumps of weirwood. Once they had carved his face into a tree alongside his brothers and sisters. Once they had called the raven god. 

Then they had come with fire and axes and cut him down and left him to starve. Then they had brought a star with seven points and seven gods to replace him. Then they had chased him to the edge of the world and made him flee beyond a wall of ice.

His children, forest’s children, had shown him a crow with three eyes as though it were new to him, as though the old bird had not seen the dawn of the world and crafted the crow from his own black feathers. He watched the three-eyed ones come and go for years and years, watched his children die, the great mountain giants, gone. 

He sought out the Other, the Great Other, resting in winter’s heart, and watched the children of the cold grow too. It was always meant to go this way. Life and death cannot coexist. The raven knows, oh he knows. But when they topple the wall of ice and come out again, from all sides, for another Night they call long, though it’s a mere heartbeat for the raven, they grasp too high and take too much. They take what belongs to his brothers and sisters, they cut down his own three-eyed crow, kill the children of the forest and all of humanity, take too much, yet the gods, old and new, do naught, too craven to come out, to craven to call upon their brothers and sisters and change the way of fate. 

The raven has seen too much. Once he was the greatest among them, once they were gods, old, old, gods, nameless, faceless, unyielding. Now, only the raven can call for them, and call he does.

***

They came in hundreds into the stone cavern, took up the faces carved for them, a thousand columns, reaching so far into the darkness that the raven could not see them. In the middle of the cavern seven gods, small like children between the carved stone, stood. The raven waited a moment longer, saw faces familiar, and smiled to see that all were here. 

“What is this? Where are we?” A beautiful young girl asked. 

She was not truly young, this maiden, a god in her own right, but the innocence in her eyes gave her the illusion of youth. 

“Are you daft, girl? The raven calls, and we answer. But we can’t rely on you lot anymore. Us old gods still have some wits about us at least!” The Storm God bellowed with a voice that cracked like lightning.

“And we remember, girl! We remember how you cut us down, we never forget!” One of the raven’s sisters hissed.

Finally, the old bird raised his voice, echoing off the walls, so loud the stone floors cracked. “We have not come here to fight like the weak-willed ones!”

“We have been wronged by the ok-Other’s children!” The red god chimed in. 

“Do not hold me responsible for my children, R’hollor!”

“There is no time for your rivalry here! Whether you are responsible or not does not matter!” 

“We have all time!” One of the stone faces laughed. “We are gods, we are immortal. You’re living up to the whole ‘Dark wings, dark words’ thing, raven!”

“Enough! Not even the gods may live forever! Have you forgotten her already?”

The effect of his words was immediate. A mumble went through the rows of columns, a shiver in the wind. No one had forgotten their fallen sister. 

“Good. Now hear my words: We have been gone too long, and have not seen the state of the world we’ve made. Not all are meant to die, we all know it!”

“It surprises me that you of all, my old friend, would be so quick to defend humanity. Have they not killed your precious mountain giants and driven you from your home, too?” It was the mirror that spoke, to show him the depths of his soul and the failings of his mind.

“Aye, they have. So I’ve made them a horn to bring back my children. I do not hold a grudge like you do.”

“Ah, yes. The horn of Joramun. Tell me, how does it feel when no one knows your name?”

“I will not have it from you.” He barked out, before turning back to the whole cavern. “All are our children and all listens to us, life and death alike. Send back some of them and let us meet again at this time in a different world!” His voice echoed of the wall, making the cave rumble at the impact. 

The tongue of the gods, so old it’s sound made the soul split, filled the cavern as suggestions were made. In the middle, there, where the seven stood, was a shallow pool of water. In it now, they could see the river they called the Blackwater Rush, it’s true name so old and dead it had turned to dust. And on the dark water a hundred boats went out bravely, to face their death. Greedy eyes were set on wolves and dragons and a last three-eyed crow, but the raven knew better. 

His sister screeched when she saw the boat disappear. “Oh, stupid old bird, what have you done? Has the three-eyed crow taken your wits? You picked the wrong one…” He only smiled. “Have you not?”

“I have chosen, brothers and sisters. I have chosen! I have not made a mistake! These are the weak-willed ones we’ve sent back. Look at them and choose!”

And choose they did. And left the stone-carved faces to see again the world unravel and wake again their children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only serious chapter this fic will have.


	2. Why the fuck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeyne wakes up and does her best to fix some relationships. No one believes a word she says.

With a start she awoke, and had to bite into her own arm so as not to scream like a madwoman. 

Only a moment ago, Jeyne Poole had been gripping her dragonglass dagger tightly and speaking one last prayer, as the water froze around their boat, and one of the White Walkers gripped her friend by the throat, crushing her neck, and then raising the other girl from the dead again. The boy had screamed and tried to lash out at the White Walker, but then – it had all been gone. 

Her heart was racing as Jeyne stumbled out of bed. Gods, why was she so short? She looked around until her head stopped spinning and her vision was no longer blurry. Was this… Winterfell? 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Why was death so shitty? Why was she back in her wretched room. Weak-legged, Jeyne pushed herself against the door into the hallway. Pale light fell through the windows. Shit. The sun had been gone, the light had been gone, only night had remained. Jeyne began running, not looking where she went and so not even noticing when she ran into him, until she already had. He caught her by the arm and stopped her.

“Theon?” Her voice was little more than a whisper.

He looked just like he had before Ramsay, looked so young and handsome and unbothered and whole. 

“Jeyne?” He asked, mocking her confused tone.

Only then did Jeyne look down, realize she was wearing only her nightdress, and realize she was no older than thirteen.

“Oh fuck me bloody!” she cursed, “This can’t me happening right now! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why me of all people? Ugh!” 

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before, Poole.” He noted with an arrogant smirk that she hadn’t seen in years. 

“Ugh, I forgot what a bitch you were…” she mumbled, more to herself. “What year is it?”

“Did you actually just ask me what year it is?”

“Yes, obviously, you’re not deaf. Just answer the question!”

“Alright, geez… It’s 298. You know that!”

298 A. C. The year the king visits, the year Lord Eddard is beheaded, fucking 298.

“Is Jon Arryn still alive?” She asked, hearing her voice go almost hysterical.

“What kind of question is that, of course he’s still alive! You’re being real weird…”

She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the nearest room, which was surprisingly easy, as this Theon Greyjoy – though much weaker than his older version – did not seem to care about anything. 

“Jon Arryn will die, very soon. He’s probably dead already! Correct me if I’m wrong: You’re already up, because you will ride out to execute a deserter named Gared. True or false?”

He looked slightly baffled. “True. So what? Can I go now, oh Jeyne?”

She rolled her eyes. “If you find six direwolf pups you’ll believe me. One black, one white, four grey. Shaggydog, Ghost, Grey Wind, Lady, Summer, Nymeria.”

“Whatever you say, Poole.” He said with a shrug and left.

“Fuck!” she hissed to herself. “Of all the people to wake up in the past, it just had to be me? Have I not suffered enough?”

Still in her night clothes, barefoot, and freezing, Jeyne Poole marched through Winterfell towards the Godswood. It was strange to be back here, after all that had happened, to have her home so untouched again. 

Before the Heart tree, Jeyne knelt, and looked into the weeping red eyes. 

“What the fuck?” Was the first thing that came to mind. “Why the fuck would you do this?” Was the second. 

With waking up in the past as a thirteen year old girl being high on her list of weird things to happen, right up there with giant ice spiders and enormous dragons, she had really assumed things would go a little more normal, at least for a day or two.

But instead, the weirwood tree spoke. Well, the wind spoke, but it was still the tree’s fault. 

“Do not question me.” The voice boomed and echoed, but at the same time whispery like the wind. It was all around her, in her head… “Unite them. Do not let war consume them.”

“Who’s them? The Starks? The fucking kingdoms? None of this makes sense!”

“Do not question the will of the gods. Unite them!” When the voice spoke those words she could feel the presence leave the Godswood, and gone was this so-called god.

“Ugh! Fuck!” Jeyne cursed again.

She would have to go find Arya and apologize. Young Jeyne had been the biggest bitch of all, even worse than Young Theon, and now it was time to right those wrongs. 

***

“Hey, uh, Arya! I would say ‘my lady’, but I know you hate it… Could I talk to you for a second?” She asked, trying to make her voice sound normal.

The younger girl eyed her suspiciously. “Why? You never talk to me.”

“Yes, about that. So, I wanted to apologize. I’ve been a bitch to you. You don’t look like a horse and you’re not ugly. I think I was just being mean to you because, uhm, in a way, I wanted to be you… To be Sansa’s sister and a Lord’s daughter and all that…”

Arya looked very confused. “Did Sansa, or my mother set you up to this? Was it Septa Mordane?”

“No, gods no. I haven’t seen them all day. I was just in the Godswood thinking about, well, myself, and realized I had to change something. I want to be your friend!” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“And what would you do… as my friend?”

She tried very hard not to sound smug. “We could… I don’t know, maybe… fight with practice swords, or go riding, or something?” 

“You don’t even know how to fight! All you do is sew and gossip and giggle.”

Jeyne cringed at the thought of her old self. “Yeah… I wanna change that shit too. And I’m not that bad with a sword. Wanna see?”

“Alright…”

And see she did. Between the entrance to the crypts and the First Keep, Arya and Jeyne took fighting stances. At Castle Black she had been forced to train with the Master at Arms. When Arya had come back from her murder training she hadn’t had time for anyone, but for Jeyne she’d made an exception, as the older girl had suffered in her place. 

This younger Arya was shit. Jeyne lunged out and after only two swings Arya’s practice sword was on the ground.

“When did you learn that? And where?”

Jeyne just shrugged with a grin. Gods, her teeth weren’t broken anymore! Instinctively she touched her mouth and Arya took her moment of distraction to attack again.

“You’re quick. Like a cat, or something! Maybe a wolf?” 

“Maybe!” The younger girl hit her again. “Or I’m the warrior queen Nymeria!”

“Aw fuck, then I’m just Rhaenys I guess! But I have an enormous fire-breathing dragon!”

Arya actually laughed at that. Before they could continue, a horn sounded.

“Come on, let’s see what they’ve found!” Jeyne cried out and rushed off, sword still in hand. 

Arya followed and quickly overtook her, a whirlwind running through Winterfell towards the Hunter’s Gate to see. Jeyne already knew what waited there. They come riding in, all those fancy Lords, Eddard Stark, beheaded, Robb Stark, murdered at the red wedding, Jon Snow, stabbed by his own brothers, Bran Stark, pushed from a tower, Theon Greyjoy, taken by Ramsay. Fuck, they’re all supposed to be dead. 

They hold in their arms the direwolf puppies and Arya rushed towards them to pick out her wolf.

“Nymeria.” She says with a smile. “A proper warrior queen.”

Jeyne can’t help but to smile as well. They’re all so young… Theon stares at her with unsettling confusion in his blue eyes.

“Six direwolves.” He says. “One black, one white, four grey. Oh, fuck.”

***

“What the everloving fuck? How the fuck did you know that?” He practically shouts at her.

“You believe me now?” He shakes his head immediately and Jeyne looses her patience. “Fine! I’m from the fucking future, dickhead, and it ain’t rosy! War all around, everyone dies, and I wanna fix this trashfire!”

“The future? That’s what you’re going with?” He laughs coldly.

“Yes, for fuck’s sake! I was just sitting around in a stupid row boat, then the Others killed Irri, and Pyp, and Gendry, and everyone,” She swallows hard, biting back tears. “And then I wake up and I’m back here! I was older than you are now, I was twenty-one Theon!”

“The Others?” He raises one brow in question.

“Yes! They’re back! The deserter was right, they’re back, but instead of managing anything well, we went ahead and started the war of the motherfucking five kings – and we lost! You hear that? We lost.” 

“Back up, five kings? How would there ever be five kings?”

“Stannis, Renly, Joffrey, Robb, and your idiot father Balon, who doesn’t give a single shit about you!” She spat.

“Take that back, you- wait, did you say Robb?”

“Yes! Lord Eddard dies, Robb goes to war, and is declared king in the North, got it? Then he dies. In part because of you, no less. In the end, only Stannis is alive, but he still looses, and I won’t take it! And you-“ she punches his chest lightly “-Theon Greyjoy, are going to help me!”

“No chance! You are thoroughly confused and not making sense right now! Now go back to do embroidery or whatever it is you and Sansa like to do!” He makes to leave.

“You were so much easier to deal with in the other life! Maybe I really should just let you ruin yourself and let Ramsay cut your cock off!” She shouts after him. 

“No one is cutting my- why am I even still talking to you?”

“Just wait till Bran falls! You’ll believe me then.” She snarls and storms off. 

Fuck! I have to let Bran fall now! Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

She missed Irri. The Dothraki girl had been a true friend to her, even better than Sansa. Ugh, fuck, Sansa! 

She would have to be Sansa’s picture perfect best friend again, would have to go to King’s Landing and- oh. Oh no. Her father would die then. Littlefinger would take her away again to that horrible brothel. And then – Ramsay. 

No! Jeyne Poole would not go to King’s fucking Landing! 

Goal number 1: win this shitty war and prevent Theon from betraying Robb. Baby steps, baby steps. And Goal number 2: Don’t let her name sister Jeyne Westerling get anywhere near Robb Stark. She would not see another red wedding done. 

Fuck the other life! The King was coming to Winterfell again and this time she knew what would happen.


End file.
